


27

by civillove



Series: seblaine drabble prompts from tumblr [61]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 19:56:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10601118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove
Summary: Request from tumblr: Callback audition partners forced to kiss





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always open to prompts! :)

For as long as Blaine can remember, he’s wanted to be on Broadway. It’s been his dream for so long that he can’t recall anything before that. He doesn’t want to settle, even though he knows that snagging a role on Broadway isn’t easy. It’s hard work, sometimes grueling and thankless. He knows that he’s not automatically going to be considered Broadway material without putting in the work first.

That’s why attending school at NYADA had been so important and auditioning for small shows along the way. He doesn’t care if he has to act in small bits to work that ladder to the very top. He’ll exhaust himself if he has to, his boyfriend is certainly working just as hard as he is.

The problem is…well, that very same thing.

Not that it’s ever become a competition, Blaine has had a sour feeling lately that Kurt isn’t exactly happy with them being in the same field of auditions. And while Blaine has made it a point to celebrate Kurt’s winnings, Kurt’s face when Blaine gets a role is not as happy as he thinks it should be.

It’s disappointing for sure and he knows he shouldn’t be making excuses for it except that’s _exactly_ what he’s doing despite his friends telling him that Kurt should be _happy_ for him.

Blaine understands that in a competitive field, it’s hard to feel happy for someone when they’ve got the role you tried so hard to get. But…he’d settle with something fake, a lie even, Kurt _trying_ to be happy for him even though he isn’t.

They walk out of the same audition together and Kurt is quiet as he puts his hands in his pockets. They need to stop auditioning for the same thing, that’s part of the problem. But in a place as big as New York, the opportunities are surprisingly limited. Everyone wants to be part of something special, important, revolutionary.

Not all plays are like that, it’s just how it is.

“Do you want to go get some lunch?” Blaine offers, running a hand through his curls. They won’t hear back about the audition for a few hours. “On me.” _Stop. Stop, stop._

Kurt shrugs, “I’m not really that hungry.”

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. Frustration prickles under his skin and he tries to stop his mouth from asking but it’s too late—“Is this how it’s going to be now? I feel like you’re always upset with me.”

Apparently it’s wrong for him to even ask because Kurt gives him this _look_ like an insect needing to be squashed. “I’m not upset with you, I just wish we weren’t…always working hard for the same thing. Feels like a waste.”

Blaine swallows thickly, can read between the lines of Kurt’s statement. “You mean it’s a waste if I get a call back and you don’t.”

“That’s not what I said.” But it’s clearly what he meant.

He doesn’t want to fight but Blaine isn’t too sure he can just let all of this get swept under the rug again. Another quiet lunch and awkward dinner if one of them gets a call back and the other doesn’t. He doesn’t _want_ that. Kurt expects Blaine to be happy for him but when Blaine expects the same thing in return, it’s like he’s asking him to move a mountain.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Kurt waves his arm for a cab. “Let’s just go home, wait for the calls.”

He takes in a short breath before shaking his head, drawing his coat tighter around himself. “You go head, I’m going to get a coffee or something. Wait for my call there.”

A cab pulls up at the curb, Kurt opening the door, staring at Blaine for a moment. A look in his eyes, a silent conversation, ‘ _seriously?’._ Blaine stands his ground. This may not be the perfect time for them to talk about this but it’s happening, it has to.

“Fine Blaine, do whatever you want, that’s all you end up doing anyways.”

Kurt gets into the cab and slams the door closed, driving off a few moments later.

And he’s alone.

\---

Blaine pinches the bridge of his nose before staring long and hard at his cell phone, his messages app open. Nothing from Kurt, though he’s not surprised; when they’re fighting Blaine usually has to be the first one who says sorry. Even when he feels like he shouldn’t have to.

He’s starting to second guess himself the longer he sits there; is he really willing to throw a relationship in a trashcan over a play—even though deep down, he knows that’s not what this is really about.

“Shit.” He mumbles and clicks on ‘compose’ and—his cell phone starts ringing.

It’s a call-back.

He already knows just by how this day is going that before he even picks up the phone, Kurt did not get the same phone call.

\---

Blaine sits in a theater full of call-backs, at least twenty not including himself. He’s got a number on his chest, which just goes to show that he’s swimming in a room full of talent. This play might not be the one for him, but the longer he sits there watching the writer and the director put different combinations of men on stage to run through the scene, the more he falls in love with the characters.

It’s contemporary and shocking, they feel fresh and alive to him. He wants this. He wants this more than he’s wanted something in a long time. The play itself is about infidelity but it also goes much deeper than that; it’s about want, and need, about empathy and forgiveness. It’s about desperation.

Blaine notes that every couple has to run through the scene on stage and end with a kiss and chews on his lower lip. He glances at his phone, no messages, and wonders if Kurt is here. He doesn’t think so…hasn’t seen him yet.

He sighs and tries to patiently wait his turn but he’s nervous; they keep putting different combinations with number 27 on stage. They must like him and well, Blaine isn’t surprised. He’s got a force to him, like a tidal wave, bright green eyes that he can see from his seat in the crowd. He carries himself with such poise and personality that it wafts off him easily even when he’s relaxed.

He’s beautiful and—

“Number 9, you’re up!”

Blaine looks down at his own number. 9. And he’s so screwed.

He scrambles to get up and leave his coat in his chair, smoothing down his number as he walks up the steps to the stage. It’s hot under the lights and he swallows down cotton in his throat as he approaches number 27.

“I’m Blaine,” He says, extends his hand and tries to cut down on his nerves.

27 laughs softly, shakes his hand. “Cute. Don’t be so nervous, I saw you at the first round of auditions,” He grins, still hasn’t let go of his hand. “You were amazing.” When he lets go, Blaine feels the warmth he left behind and almost misses it.

“It’s too bad we had to watch the one after you, that guy in sequins looked constipated.”

He frowns, it’s a little late because he’s trying to reconnect his brain to his mouth. Luckily the director and writer are still discussing either the pair before them or about _them_ specifically, noting the pairing and how they mix when they’re not acting.

“That was my boyfriend.” That’s literally the only thing he could come up with.

“Sorry,” 27 smirks and no. No he’s not apologizing for what he said but he’s sorry for _Blaine;_ that he has to date him. “I’m just saying. There’s a reason you’re here and he’s not.”

He hands them the script, points to Scene 7, and Blaine takes the pages to look at. It seems pretty simple enough, tries to grasp the character and works through the action until the end of the scene. The kiss.

He’s going to have to kiss number 27.

Blaine let’s out a slow breath before the director calls for the theater to be silent. He looks over at him, points, “You need to script, number 9?”

“No,” He says and sets it down. “No, I’m good.”

27 smiles at the corner of his mouth, impressed maybe, Blaine isn’t sure. He stands on the mark on the floor and faces 27, watching him, waiting for him to start. The transformation is immediate, cocky and confident to emotional and _real,_ instantly the character from the scene. There’s a reason they keep having 27 work with different combinations, he’s good.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself? You can leave him. He doesn’t deserve you.”

This feels like a conversation he’s had with friends about _Kurt_ too many times. Blaine shakes his head, “He never used to be this person. Don’t you get it? I can’t just abandon him.”

“So instead you’re willing to sacrifice yourself?” 27 takes a step towards him, encroaching his space. Blaine looks up at him, swallows, the silence between them deafening. He almost falls into the green pools of his eyes.

“I’d rather do that than hurt him.” The admittance is so bearing, it strips him down to nothing. Takes off his skin, melts into his bones. Because isn’t that his problem all along.

He swallows and looks down, can’t handle having this other male look at him, to _know_ that these aren’t just words. Could 27 see that? How real they were? He was the only number to play this scene out as something other than angry—did he ruin it? Were the emotions too raw?

27 cups his cheek and tilts his face up, his thumb running along his jawline. And they kiss, Blaine slowly wrapping his arms around 27’s broad shoulders. They linger, perhaps longer than they should but don’t pull away until the writer and director are _clapping,_ fizzling the connection between them.

The writer and director chat a few moments, hushed whispers. It either went very terrible or—“You two were phenomenal. Number 9,”

“Blaine.” He adds, tries not to interrupt but can’t help it.

“Blaine,” The writer grins, “I’ve never seen anyone play that scene the way you did. The emotions were raw, terribly exposed. It was perfect. I don’t think we need to look for anyone else, you two are it.”

Blaine is so happy that he may or may not have hugged 27 before rushing down off the stage to his things, looking for his phone to text Cooper. He can feel someone behind him and he turns to see number 27 peeling his number off and handing him a folder.

“You ran off before you could get the practice schedule.” He smirks. “Looks like we'll be seeing a lot more of one another, I should probably tell you my name.”

Blaine smiles softly and chews on his lower lip, their fingers brushing as he takes the folder. “I don’t know. I kind of liked referring to you as 27.”

“Sebastian.” He laughs around the sound, his eyes trailing up Blaine’s body. “Let me know when you want to practice that kiss.”

A soft laugh crawls up Blaine’s throat in response and he shakes his head, watching Sebastian turn and walk towards his own things in the theater. He opens up the photo and there’s Sebastian’s number written on his practice schedule.

God. He is so screwed.

 


End file.
